


Made for Loving You

by monolithjemma



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6651247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monolithjemma/pseuds/monolithjemma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got tired of waiting for Finn/Rey smut to show up in this fandom. ;)</p><p>FinnRey is in my top three OTPs (top 2 honestly) and the purest of pure loves. Two sexy cinnamon rolls who need to be together like yesterday. </p><p>Nothing but smut as far as the eye can see. Not even a whiff of ReyLo or sexual Poe Dameron or anyone else. Just these two darlings getting together over and over and over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made for Loving You

Until the moment Rey settles herself in the Falcon again after weeks of training with Master Luke, it doesn't hit her that today, within minutes, Finn will be standing before her, in the flesh. Whole and healthy and real. 

 

Master Luke hasn't approved of how often Rey speaks with Finn over the holo, the twice a week they've negotiated plus whenever she could sneak it in. The one time he caught her, and she sensed anger in her Master's demeanor, she squared her shoulders, gave him a steely look, and said, "He came back for me."

 

Master Luke had gritted his teeth, given her a curt nod, and left her to make her call. He'd disappeared for two days, after that. 

 

Rey doesn't care what Master Luke thinks about Finn, anyway. She's been the model of submission, obedience, and humility during her training, except for this one matter. Master Luke told her that he would have kept her in training for years, in the old days. 

 

But the old days are over, and the Resistance needs both Master Luke and Rey to claim any kind of a fighting chance. Rey is a Skywalker, and true to her family's history, her strength with the Force is tainted with emotion. It is tinged, perhaps bolstered, definitely fortified by her fierce love and loyalty to the boy who risked everything for her.    

 

Rey reminds her uncle that Kylo Ren's every move is shot through with bitterness and jealousy. At least love is a force of good. 

 

Besides, he came back for her. And now it's time for her to keep her promise and come back to him, Jedi purity be damned. 

 

___

 

The FTL drive whines as it powers down, and Rey realizes that her whole body is trembling. She's been looking at his face at every opportunity for these past months, and every time cursed herself for not having spent more time touching him, pressing her lips to his skin, before she left. 

 

She's thought herself stoic and noble. Perhaps that was true, but it wasn't worth it. Not at all. 

 

For all they've spoken, she doesn't know what's okay, what Finn wants, what he expects from her. They've discussed her training and his role in the Resistance, what she's learned about her family and what he hopes to discover about his. She's shared everything from what she eats for breakfast to the dreams that still won't leave her alone at night. He makes her laugh with stories about Poe pranking the engineers and Pava playing folk songs late at night.

 

They haven't talked about what she can't stop turning over and over in her mind. There's really no great way to tell someone that you dream of pressing your body against his, that your mind wanders into thoughts of tasting him. How can she tell him that she longs to kiss him, that her fingers itch to map every inch of his skin?

 

Rey sighs, willing the Force to wash calm over her body. It only works a little. One deep breath in, one long, slow release through o-shaped lips, and it's time. She can't wait a second longer. 

 

She feels her legs stand up beneath her, but she's living entirely in her thoughts now. Will he be waiting for her to walk off the ship, or will she have to run through the base in search of him? Will he stretch his arms out to her? Rey remembers the feel of his chin notching over her shoulder when he embraced her the last time, can recount every millisecond of that hug like it happened yesterday. 

 

What will he be wearing? What will he smell like? Will he try to kiss her before he speaks to her? Will he try to kiss her at all? Oh stars, what if he just tries to shake her hand and she has to figure out how to get his body closer to hers because that's all she's wanted for weeks now?

 

The ramp lowers and Rey blinks into the pitch black. It all floods her at once. Finn is the one who sent her the departure time she should take. Nobody ordered her home, nobody is waiting for her. Nobody but him and the two cadets that waved her down the landing strip, who are now turning off their torches and reluctantly walking back into the base, murmuring and staring as they do.  

 

It's the dead of night, and Rey and Finn are alone on a strip of road slicing through the rolling D'Qar hills which she knows have wrapped themselves in a blanket of fog. She wants to wrap herself in Finn. And she doesn't know exactly what it is, but there has to be a reason that he had her come back in the dead of night with the whole base asleep. 

 

She's close enough to him to feel his breath moving the air between them faster than her own lungs can fill and empty. When it came to this moment, she assumed she would have some control over herself, and oh, was she ever wrong. She launches herself at him, loving that he's only a few inches taller than he, since her tiptoes give her plenty of reach to fling her arms around his neck. Her whole body is shaking, because the emotion is too much - the feelings that come with the man you have come to love in his absence squeezing you close to him with all the strength he has, overlapping his arms across your lower back and squeezing at your hips with strong, thick fingers.

 

Just imagining his fingers touching her, in exactly the place her dreams in the darkest night have made clear that she wants him, makes her breath come faster. 

 

She dares to pull back from him now, whimpers quietly at the devastation of putting space between her breasts and his chest. 

 

"Finn, I -" she manages before noticing the way his eyes flick down to her lips, then back up to her eyes again. All of a sudden, it floods her, the reassurance she's so desperately wanted ever since the moment how much she desired him - he wants her too. 

 

He doesn't say a word, but she _knows_ , can feel the certainty of it written on every molecule of the air around them and stringing together every cell of their bodies.  His eyes are on her lips again but she doesn't move, doesn't know if she even can, because she's filled with awe and hope and gratitude that this man she loves so fiercely is holding her and loves her back.

 

Finn dives for her lips like a man who's been crawling through the desert and just seen water, and it strikes her all at once that that's literally how she met him, and the perfection of this truth is so whole and pure that it feels like every aspect of this moment is in perfect alignment with the Force and the rhythms of the universe and she and Finn are at the very center. 

 

His lips are full and soft and Rey struggles to keep up with the desperate way they're moving against hers, pushing into her and pulling away, opening slightly and changing the angle before pressing in again. She wants to devour him, to get closer, closer, closer still, and he seems to understand. Suddenly, his wide, warm palm is cradling her jaw, coaxing her lips exactly where he wants them, taking control and telling her exactly how precious she is to him with one gentle touch. 

 

The pull away from each other eventually, unwilling to give up contact completely, and so leaving their foreheads pressed together. Rey gulps in the air he puffs out into the space between them, as though the scent of his breath can aid her memorization of the way he tastes. 

 

"I was starting to think it was all a dream. That maybe I was still unconscious in the med bay and maybe it was all - maybe you were - I mean..." he swallows like his thoughts are running away from him and he's out of breath trying to catch them. 

 

"Maybe I was what?" Rey leans in and presses a long, soft kiss to his lips, not licking her way into his mouth in the delicious way she'd learned to do approximately ninety seconds ago. 

 

"Maybe you weren't real. Maybe this wasn't real." To show her what he means, he pulls her even closer to him, and her eyes flutter at the sensation of her breasts pressing flat against his hard chest, of the jut of something much harder below his belt. 

 

"I know what you mean," she admits breathlessly. "The way we met. The way you came back for me. The way it felt to look at you, even over the comms. It was so fast and so..." she trails off, distracted by his lips and the way his clever pink tongue darts out to wet them. "So, so good." 

 

Finn's eyes squeeze shut at her last word, and his hands drift down to the bottom flare of her hips, firm palms bracketing her in as though if they don't she might start to shimmer and disappear like a hologram. 

 

"Rey, could we -" his voice is hoarse and he doens't have to complete the sentence. She knows what he wants, and she thanks everything holy, because she wants it too. 

 

"Take me somewhere quiet," she demands softly, eyes searching his, begging him to understand what she wants. 

 

Rey doesn't even know what she wants, not exactly, not fully. Nobody ever taught her about the ways of womens' bodies, and she hasn't thought of it too often, at least not until the last several months, as it became ever clearer that she was becoming a woman. Wanting things that she knew women wanted. 

 

She knows that there's a hungry ache between her legs and a warm, pleasant sort of fire that licks through her limbs when she thinks of Finn touching her. She knows that the idea of the rigid parts of his body invading the softest parts of hers feels like something right, something she needs to go on being who she is in this world. And she is strong with the Force, and she knows herself and she can feel the Force pulling her and Finn closer and closer together with every breath and who in the galaxy is she to argue?

 

And after walking so far and so long and being strong and standing alone, all she wants, _all_ she wants right now is to be cared for, completely. Even as she thinks it, Finn is sweeping her up in his arms and she wants to weep with the relief of it all. In fact, a cry escapes from her lips, and she wants to give it to him, wants him to know how desperately she's needed him, so she stretches her neck and presses her lips to his, moaning into his mouth. 

 

Finn bursts through the door to the underground base, and she can feel his strong legs pumping beneath them, feels the still air of the quiet hallways ghosting over her exposed hands and cheeks as he practically runs to wherever he's taking her. She tucks her forehead into this neck, clinging to him, knowing that eventually she'll have to stop touching him but not wanting to think of that now, not even for a second. 

 

Rey opens her eyes when he stops, his chest heaving the slightest bit with the exertion of their short journey.  "There's a room for you," he manages, swallowing hard, clearly struggling to draw his lips far enough from where they've come to rest at Rey's temple to speak. She wishes he wouldn't, in an idle, selfish sort of way.  "I convinced Pava to bunk up with her girlfriend. She grumbled but I think she liked the excuse."

 

Rey laughs, the reassuring sunlight of being surrounded by friends, by people who make her laugh and smile, starting to soak into her skin. "But then her heart twists as his words sink in. "You don't want me to stay with you," she says, not a question, not something that needs an answer, because if he gives the wrong one, if she's depending on it, it'll be too hard to hear. She lets her legs go heavy, feels him drop her, senses herself stepping back from him even though it's the last thing in the galaxy she can think of wanting. 

 

But Finn is already answering anyway, and she forces herself to really hear his words. He's closing the distance she put between them and Rey's heart soars with the airy fullness begging to be filled up with him. He's cupping her face in his hands and oh, oh, it feels like he cherishes her beyond all else, beyond reason. "I do," he murmurs, and Rey squeezes her eyes shut, confused by the emotion behind the single tear that trickles down her cheek.

 

"I want you to stay with me. I want you to be right by my side, and I don't want you to leave unless you want to. I want to...I want so many things, Rey." His forehead presses into her temple and she's never felt more relief in her life, not the first time he came back for her, not the moment she knew her quest for Luke Skywalker would be a success. "I want that too," she chokes out, regretting that she ever let herself drop from his arms. He dips down and sweeps her up again, and she feels tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

  
There is so much to say, but she knows they don't really have to say any of it.

 

She's inside Finn's room, smiling at the glimpse of Poe's old jacket dangling from a hook and the hunk of wires and metal left over from when she bypassed the Falcon's compressor resting on a low table beside his bed. She'd left it for him, with no note or commentary, hoping it served as a reminder that if anyone could come back for him in the whole galaxy, it would be her. She'd figure it out. She'd always find her way back to him.

 

His bed is unmade, the sheets twisted in a way that lets her imagine what he looks like when she sleeps. She wonders what he wears when he does, whether he wears anything. Rey gives the bed a long look, then turns her gaze on Finn. He knows what she's thinking, he knows, and it's thrilling and terrifying and perfect. He lays her down, and a smile larger than any she's ever had cracks the firm resolve that's been etched into her face for fifteen years. He follows her, easing onto his side right beside her, not pushing, not crowding, pulling his arm from under her back to play with her hair. She tilts her head, humming when he tugs at the tie that holds her bottom bun in place, purring as he pulls the other two free from their bonds in turn. 

 

His fingers smooth over the arch of her forehead, then down, brushing the free strands of hair off her neck. "You're not a dream," Finn says, his lips maddeningly close to her ear. Rey never thought she'd want someone's mouth on her earlobe so desperately, and finding herself lost in that thought is enough of a surprise that it makes her chuckle. 

 

"I don't think I am," she responds, her words languid and relaxed, even though she's having trouble getting enough breath to move into the next moment. "Are you?"

"No," he says, leaning closer to her, but not closer enough. 

 

She lets her eyes snap open. "Then show me," Rey whispers, already imagining what it will feel like when his tongue slicks against hers, wondering if her impulse to bite at his lip is something she should follow through with. 

 

"Yes. Please, Rey." His voice betrays something aching deep inside him, a hunger that Rey desperately wants to sate for him. So she pushes herself up, crashing her lips into his, letting her jaw fall open with the express intent to devour his mouth with hers. 

 

He tastes incredible. She darts her tongue into his mouth, searching for the taste of him, so she can savor it and remember it later. It's too much, it's not enough, and, desperate for more, her hands claw under his shirt. In response, he grips her waist and tugs him so her body is flush with his, then smooths his hands up her arms to push down the vest Leia had given her all those weeks ago. 

 

"Your arms," he murmurs against her mouth. "I've never seen them." He shifts down, placing open-mouthed kisses along her throat. She tips her head back, exposing as much skin as she can to his hot, wet tongue, marveling that she's willingly so vulnerable to this man when she's spent her entire life fending off death at the hands of lesser ones.

 

"I want to feel you,"  Rey gasps, tugging his shirt up over his head, whimpering when her desperation to feel his skin under her hands results in him pulling away. 

 

"You too," he groans, his voice muffled against the small pillow of her breast. Rey writhes beneath him, grappling with the dissonance between how much she loves the way he's sucking at her skin, just inches from her nipple, and her dissatisfaction with the unjust separation between them that her shirt is causing. There's a notch in the center of the collar, and as soon as that thought crosses her mind, Finn's strong fingers are there, tugging at the edges. The sound of the fabric tearing simultaneously brings Rey intense relief and drives her mad. 

 

"Rey," he manages, his voice utterly prayerful, when her shirt has been ripped in half and leaves her bare before him, save the simple band that stretches over her breasts. His hands span her ribs, resting there in a way that makes her feel safe, wanted. So cherished. His thumbs notch under the curve of her bottom rib, and it's too much and not enough all at once. Her body screams for his touch everywhere, as it has done for weeks, maybe months. 

 

But certain parts are lit up like an asteroid curving against the night sky. She feels as if she is on fire, inside and out, and only he can quench the flames. 

 

She mirrors his position, placing her palms against his chest, feeling a surge of lust move through her when she realizes just how muscled he is. Her gaze skates down, noticing how his fine, broad shoulders narrow to a waist cut with perfect abs, begging her to look further down. Suddenly, she hates his pants. 

 

Finn flicks an eyebrow up, making eye contact with her and daring a smile for the first time since their reunion. 

 

"Mine for yours?" He grins and Rey wants to bottle up the feeling it elicits within her. She begins a list of everything she can do to make him smile like that. She expects it to grow much longer over the course of their lives. She feels a flash of worry that her presumption that their lives will be lived together is too hasty.

 

He shakes his head, resting his forehead against hers. His breath steams hot over her face and she wants to swallow it again, wants to lap up his taste on her tongue. "It's not. It's not crazy, Rey. You're all I want."

 

She doesn't miss how his voice breaks with emotion. She doesn't think he wants her to. "Me too, Finn," she says just before she sucks at his earlobe, not doing a single thing to hide the emotion building in her voice, too.

 

Even if nobody else could possibly understand, the two of them have this - the force of inevitability, the sweet understanding of their devotion to one another. Skin and lips and tongues and moans and raw longing don't cancel out the purity of the love simmering at a steady bubble just below the surface. 

 

This in mind, their hands work at each others' clothing, and their own, until they're completely bare, tangled together on his bed in a resistance base, half-covered by sheets, panting with the unusual exertion. They grin at each other like fools, like children who've lived life without a single care, and maybe for this moment, they can imagine what that feels like.  When Finn lets his body lay on hers, pressing her pleasantly into the soft mattress, she kisses him again.

 

She still can't quite believe she can kiss him, she _is_ kissing him, and her teeth clack against his, their joy obstructing the hunger that has joined them together. They laugh. The first time she'd laughed in years, ever since she could remember, was after they managed to get the Falcon off Jakku, and she wonders if this is how it will always be, the two of them finding reasons to laugh and moments to celebrate even through the constant danger of doing what they do, fighting who they've chosen to fight. 

 

She feels him hard against her thigh. She's imagined him inside her, against her, more than a few times, but her imagination was never quite able to account for the weight and the heat and the vague twitch of him against her soft inner legs. That means she definitely never imagined what it would do to her. She knew about the strange organ that men had, but she never could have predicted how badly she'd want it squeezed inside her, rubbing heat into her center, stoking the fire that seemed to live constantly inside her to an explosion. 

 

She'd spoken with her mother about the ways of women, and even when Rey had insisted that she had no plans to be with any man, Leia had reminded her that it was best to protect herself. Just in case. With a strong set to her jaw, Leia had instructed her daughter on the herbs to add to her meals to prevent pregnancy, had coached on her on the signs of fertility. 

 

The moment she'd arranged the date back to D'Qar, she'd done the calculations. Even with no prophylactic herbs to speak of, she and Finn would be safe tonight. 

 

The thought gives her a surge of confidence now, and she tightens her grip on Finn's shoulders, arches her back in an invitation. In less than a second, his mouth is moving downward, licking and sucking and every so often biting at her skin, and for an action typically reserved for eating and aggression, Rey is surprised at how pleasant the feeling of his teeth nipping at her skin is, especially when he follows it with a soothing swipe of his tongue. 

 

Her breasts are small, but attractive on her slight frame, and the way they fit inside Finn's palm while still giving his fingers room to work against her nipples makes her feel like this was meant to be, all of it, right down to the genetics that made him this way and her this way, and as he lets his lips latch over her breast, her suspicion is cemented. He sucks, hard, and desire surges through her, hot and sharp, sending her into a frenzy of thrusting hips and raw need. 

 

"Finn, touch me. Please." She swore she'd never beg anyone for anything, but this feels like a worthy violation of that promise. A necessary one, even,

 

His hot palm smooths down her belly, and the feeling is so exquisite that she thinks, in the corner of her mind, that she'll make him put it there again, just to feel the weight and breadth of it, when they're more relaxed. This is no time for soothing touches, though. Rey is all gratitude when Finn trails one of his thick, clever fingers through her folds, and her head thrashes wildly against the sheets when it grazes her clit. 

 

He's grown harder, hotter, and heavier against her, and oh stars, so _big_. She wonders if she can handle him, if she can stretch enough for him to fit, let alone make her feel all the things she so desperately needs to feel from him. He pulls back to look at her. Instead of the smirk  she would expect from any other man she's ever met, he's looking deep and long into her eyes. 

 

"I love you, Rey."

 

The wave of unexpected yet desperately desired emotion crashes over her. 

 

"Yes," she gasps as his finger slips into her body. She's exactly half agreement and half desperate encouragement. 

 

"Tell me if you believe this - we're meant to be together." Finn's voice is gravely and broken against the shell of her ear. 

 

"Yes," she says again as the pad of his finger curves up inside her, against the inside of her mons, making her moan and writhe. 

 

"I want to be inside you. I need to make you feel everything possible. And that is why we're taking our time."

 

Rey whimpers, writhing yet again. She has no idea what he means, until he slides his body down and presses kisses against her toned stomach, dipping his tongue into her navel, mapping star patterns over her  hips and under her ribs. 

 

And then, all at once, though she never even dreamed it, his mouth is on her sex and his tongue is licking over her and through her over and over, pushing insistently inside her and then trailing up through her lips. Finn lets forth a satisfied grunt, like Rey is the most delicious thing he's ever tasted, and that just makes it feel a hundred times better. He shifts up, and she mourns the loss of that clever tongue pushing inside her, until it begins to trace slow circles around the point at the top of her folds where she touches herself in the darkest night. 

 

Rey knows how to pull herself over the edge, with ever increasing pressure and speed, but somehow, Finn knows too - except he does it so much better. The wet heat of his tongue circling and sucking and humming with a gentle vibration raises her to a fever pitch within seconds, and she's warring with herself, bracketing his face in her palms. 

 

"Stop, stop," she gasps. "I'm about to -" 

 

"So let me -" he rushes in.

 

"No," she insists. "I want to look at you. This time, we'll never forget. Please. Face to face. Just like we began."

 

So he slides up, and presses kisses along her brow, slow and reverent, clutching at her waist like she's his tether to this base and this world and his purpose in life. She thinks, with a small smile, that it's very likely true. 

 

He's got her all loose and soaking wet and _wanting him_ , so when his thick hardness presses into her inch by inch, there's a lot of friction but almost no pain. Her body relishes the invasion, begging for more with every passing second. Her walls clutch onto his cock and pull him in, making room, making every cell of her body sing. When she feels his head bumping into something inside her, she sighs, long and low. 

 

"There. Just there. Oh, Finn." Emotion courses through her again, and she kisses him, long and slow. 

 

Rey never thought she would be anything more than a girl, hunting for survival, desperately clinging to her own wits just to make it to another day. But now it's so glaringly clear that Finn has made her into someone new, someone who can feel and love and experience and _want_ so much more than she ever thought possible. 

 

"I won't move until you tell me to," Finn murmurs in her ear, his voice dark with lust and broken with longing. She loves the combination. She wants to make him sound like that every day for the rest of her life. 

 

"Move? We're supposed to...?"

 

Finn chuckles into her shoulder. "Let's try it, and see if you like it."

 

Rey nods, quick, bracing herself. He pulls out of her a fraction of an inch, and oh, how she hates the loss of him buried inside her. She whines, and he pushes back in, sending a hot flash of pain radiating through her body, straight from her core. In response, her fingers scrabble at his shoulders, holding on for dear life through the unexpected sensation. He kisses along her hairline, runs fingers through the strands at her nape, murmurs things in her ear about how strong and perfect she is, how desperately he's wanted her to be is.

 

She is, she says, drawing deep breaths. She's his. All his. Forever.

 

There is pain, yes. But within seconds, it fades, and she pushes her hips down into the mattress, forcing him out of her, giving him the signal. He groans, and she wonders if the friction is more delicious from his perspective or hers. For now it's gone from something with an edge of pain to an indisputable instrument of pleasure. 

 

"Are you sure?" he asks, his brow furrowed, searching her eyes for any sign of distress. She sweeps her thumb over his cheekbone, taking in the smooth perfection of his skin, the deep sparkling brown of his eyes. 

 

"Never been more sure of anything," she replies with a quirk of her lip that she hopes to the skies communicates some small portion of her happiness. 

 

So he begins. 

 

She meets him, thrust for thrust, but she things in a sort of dazed, detached way how grateful she is for this man who fits so perfectly but just imperfectly enough to make her take notice of how he's pushing her, molding her, shaping her into something she never imagined she could be. 

 

He's going slow, taking his time, the long, patient strokes in and out of her clearly driving him at least as crazy as it's driving him. For all the heat she'd ever felt at the prospect of being this close to him in her dreams, this is a hundred times more. There's something of an itch inside her, an ember that could be fanned into licking, consuming flames with just a little more...something.

 

So she presses her lips hard into his, snaps her hips up and squeezes so that she swears she can feel every detail of his cock molding to her inner walls. It's glorious. He moans loud enough for the neighbors and their S.O.s to hear, and she beams knowing she did that. 

 

"Rey, I'm gonna..."

 

"Yes," she moans breathily, and it's like a switch has been flipped. He gains speed slowly, but once he's pumping into her, he sets a rhythm that has Rey's head spinning and her pussy clenching around his cock over and over and over and her body riding waves of pleasure that she doesn't see coming until she's already drowning in them. 

 

Rey loves his deep voice, loves that even when he's panicking or upset it stays deep and low and manly and steady.  When he comes, it's no exception. 

 

She knew from the occasional traders' stories that some men screamed and moaned like women when they came to their completion. But Finn?

 

He roared. 

 

She clutched at the curve of his ass, pulling him tight to her and encouraging him to stay as long as he needed, or wanted, or forever, while he came. She swore she could feel the jets of his seed spurting, thick and hot, inside her. 

 

Rey had never thought she'd want to feel like she could belong to anyone, like any man could claim her with such a base act. But with Finn's raw, helpless yet victorious shouts in her ear, she feels something quite different than conquered - she feels like she has claimed him. 

 

When he collapses on top of her, finally, her fingers trace patters across his broad shoulders, reveling in the dimple at the base of his spine, the knobs of his vertebrae, the solidness of his shoulders, the rounded ropes of muscle in his arms. He's a work of art, an unrivaled masterpiece, and he's hers. 

 

"Mine," Rey murmurs, turning her face to his. They're both coated with a thin sheen of sweat and their voices are hoarse and twisted with emotion. But they make the words come out anyway.

 

"Yours," he agrees, making his lips available to her and humming with satisfaction when she licks along their edges and then presses in, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth after what seemed like hours of kissing. "And you're mine." His arms are around her waist one and a half times again. She's never felt small or weak because of her short stature and slight frame, and certainly doesn't feel like that now.

 

What she does feel is held, treasured, cherished by the once person who means the most in the world to her.

 

And as Finn's hand makes its way sleepily back down her body, idly completing a soft, loving circuit from her navel to the now-sticky soreness between her legs, she thinks that belonging to someone might be the best thing that's ever happened to her. 


End file.
